


Dusk Till Dawn

by kaiyaa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley Friendship, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Self-Hatred, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 15:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20819852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiyaa/pseuds/kaiyaa
Summary: It's been a month since the Battle of Hogwarts and Harry sits beneath a large oak tree atop a hill just beyond the cover of trees that hide the Burrow from muggle view, watching the sun set, lost in thought.The sunsets help. Harry doesn't know why, but it brings a sense of calm.





	Dusk Till Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this was born out of trying to get rid of my writer's block. I guess it's suffice to say it worked. Funnily enough, while I almost always have something that I don't like about my writing, I'm quite happy with how this turned out. Took me about three hours though, lol. 
> 
> This isn't proofread so apologies for any errors.
> 
> I love sunsets and my love for them and the feeling it brings me as I watch them is what inspired this fic. 
> 
> Enjoy!

There’s something really peaceful about watching the sun set, thinks Harry as he sits under a large oak tree situated atop a hill a little ways away from the quaint little house just hidden amongst a cover of trees. The Burrow is quite the fitting name, and it’s a place Harry’s now come to think of as home. 

His eyes roam the vast expanse of sky above him, painted in splashes of orange, pink, purple, yellow and red hues. The clouds get thinner the closer they get to the setting sun, which is slowly disappearing beneath a hill in the distance. 

Harry smiles to himself, absently running a hand through his hair. Yesterday, he headed back to the Burrow before the sun had completely set. Today, he thinks he’ll stay until the very end. 

He remembers the exact moment when sunsets meant more than just a time of day. It had been directly after the last round of funerals over a month ago. Harry had made it a point to attend as many as he could, even if he may not have known the fallen wizards that gave their lives so that he could live his. The funerals had ended with Lupin, Tonks, and finally Fred. 

He remembers the numbness and the cold chill set deep within his bones that had nothing to do with the weather. He remembers being unable to shed a single tear all throughout the services. 

He does recall being one of the last people to be standing by Fred’s grave after the service. Things are slightly fuzzy after that but he’d then found himself at this very oak tree, sitting beneath it just as he is now, watching the sunset. 

Ron had come and found him, his eyes red rimmed and unimaginable pain and grief shining within them. He’d sat down beside Harry and laid an arm across his shoulders. 

Harry had broken then. Silent tears having streamed down his cheeks with no intention of stopping. It hurt in the moment. The sobs that wracked his body as Ron sat beside him, a silent but strong pillar of support, Harry doesn’t know if he’s ever cried that hard in his life. If he’s being honest with himself, it still hurts now, but just a little less. 

The pain never really goes away, but it gets easier to deal with, slowly but surely.

The sunsets help. Harry doesn’t know why, but it brings a sense of calm. 

The sound of muffled thumps behind him has him tensing for a second, hand curling around the wand in his pocket out of years of inbred instinct. Old habits die hard. A second later however, Harry recognizes the footfalls and he relaxes as Ron mutters something inaudible under his breath before situating himself next to Harry. 

“Mum nearly had a heart attack when she couldn’t find you around the house. Maybe tell someone you’re heading out next time?” 

Harry grimaces. “Sorry,” he sighs. “Just...needed some air.” 

Ron nods. “She cornered you too?” 

Harry chuckles. “Thrice over the last two days actually. It’s not that I don’t want to tell everyone. They all deserve to know. I just...I dunno.” 

“No, I get it. I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it either. Neither is Hermione,” Ron says, serious. 

Harry looks to his best friend, seeing the mildly tense set of his shoulders, the bags under his eyes that may have lessened over the last month but haven’t disappeared completely. The scars from the brain that had latched itself onto Ron back during their fifth year on their little excursion to the Department of Mysteries still stand out amongst the new ones he’s acquired while fighting the War that haven’t completely healed yet. 

He knows he’s partly the reason for the worry and exhaustion that simmers within Ron. He isn’t completely oblivious to the fact that over the last month, while everyone has been grieving in their own way, Ron’s somehow taken it upon himself to help everyone get through each day. The way he helps Molly with the cooking, always making small talk and cracking jokes just to see his mother smile. The way he notices when his father tends to suddenly space out and grow quiet in the middle of a conversation and offers to accompany him to the garage where he spends hours with Arthur, tinkering on different muggle contraptions, just to see the excited spark behind his father’s eyes ignite. Harry recalls the first time George had joined them at breakfast two days ago, the first time he’d stepped out of his room for more than a couple minutes, how he’d made an effort to be part of the conversation, how each time he’d looked to Ron for guidance and how Ron had nodded in encouragement. 

Ron had been the first one to initiate conversation with Percy, and had helped bridge any lingering animosity and feelings of betrayal within the family. He had taken Charlie into town multiple times prior to Fred’s funeral because Ron knew how much Charlie enjoyed the ice cream from the little parlour right at the edge of town. Despite Bill being the oldest, Ron had been the one to hold onto his older brother as Fred’s casket had been lowered into the ground and the oldest had fallen to his knees, a broken cry of anguish escaping him. It had been Ron that Ginny would seek out every time she’d wake up in the middle of the night, unable to sleep against the onslaught of nightmares. 

Ron had accompanied Hermione as she’d headed to Australia to track down her parents and undo the memory charm and had held her close when the Granger’s had been furious with Hermione for her actions. Of course, they came around, but it had been Ron that had been the mediator, the peacemaker between Hermione and her parents. Ron had never let go of her hand throughout the funeral services, holding her tight as they grieved together. 

And then there was Harry. 

Harry has days when he tends to retreat within his own mind, the grief, the survivors guilt tending to overwhelm him and on the worst days, it’s only Ron that manages to pull him out. He knows it weighs on his best friend and the guilt within him never leaves, knowing he’s the reason for his mate’s weariness.

Harry’s more than thankful for him.

Yet this is the most relaxed he’s seen Ron over the last month since Voldemort had breathed his last and the Wizarding world was slowly piecing itself back together again. 

They have been cornered by every opportunity possible by every member of Ron’s family, especially Molly Weasley, all curious about the time Harry, Ron and Hermione spent on the run, carrying out the mission Dumbledore left them. 

“I think Mum thinks if she can get us to talk about it, it’ll be easier to deal with. I mean, it’s no surprise that the three of us have the most trouble sleeping,” Ron muses. 

“Kingsley’s asked too. But he isn’t pushing,” Harry remarks. 

“He’s a good bloke, Kingsley.” 

Harry chuckles, nodding, but stays silent, his eyes watching the thin sliver of sun, barely visible now. The sky is slowly changing from the vibrant and warm hues to cool tones of violet and blue. 

Yet another day passes by. 

Yet another day he’s alive. 

Walking to your death, only to be brought back to life anyway changes the way one looks at life, thinks Harry dryly. An involuntary snort escapes Harry at the thought, and he shakes his head, smiling at Ron when the latter sends him an enquiring look. 

“It wasn’t just Mum’s smothering that made you come here, though.” 

It’s not a question, and Harry may forever marvel at Ron’s uncanny ability to read him. Harry doesn’t deny Ron’s statement and the latter knows not to push, knowing Harry will answer when he’s ready. 

It’s a full minute before Harry says, “I saw the Prophet,” his voice barely above a whisper. Despite the turmoil of emotions that battle for dominance inside him, he can’t help but smile wryly as Ron swears under his breath.

“The Ones Who’ve Fallen for The Boy that Lives,” Ron spits out, voice venomous as he recalls the headline with disgust. “Harry - “ 

“I know. Not my fault. Still, doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, knowing how many people died,” Harry picks at the blades of grass visible between Ron and himself. “It’s not fair.” Suddenly, a sense of bitterness courses through him. “I’m the Boy Who fuckin’ Lived twice, and yet no one else get’s that choice. How is that fair?” Harry blurts out, without thinking. 

He then grits his jaw, seeing Ron’s face pale. 

“So you really did die,” Ron chokes out. “I mean, you’ve already told us, that day at Hogwarts but…” Ron trails off. 

Harry doesn’t know how to reply. It’s the first time since the day after the battle that they’ve talked about this. 

“It’s still not your fault. You didn’t ask for any of this,” Ron says determinedly. “I know it’s easier said than done, mate, but you’ve got to stop beating yourself up. Those people, they didn’t die for you, they died fighting for something they believed in.” 

The rush of warmth that spreads through Harry at seeing the sincerity in Ron’s face, is immeasurable. Ron has every right to resent Harry. After all, he’s lost a brother to the War. But yet, here he sits, resolute, making sure Harry knows he’s not to blame. 

“Thanks,” Harry voices, and he means it. 

_ Thanks for pulling me out, again.  _

“Don’t mention it,” Ron smiles, and for the first time in a long time, Harry’s pleased to see the smile reaches his eyes. Maybe not completely, but they aren’t the grief and agony filled ones he’s been used to seeing over the past month when Ron thinks no one is watching him, the same eyes always either shut down or masked over when Ron’s been taking care of the rest. 

_ Anytime, mate. I’ll always be here.  _

“Can I ask you something?” Ron asks just as the sun finally disappears beneath the hill and the sky slowly begins to turn dark. Ron pulls out the Deluminator left to him by Dumbledore and clicks it. The shining orb of light that flies out floats around the two of them, encircling the tree having no source to latch itself onto. 

It’s a pleasant sight and Harry nods towards Ron, his eyes watching the iridescent ball of energy. 

“How was it? Does it hurt?” 

“Dying?” Harry asks. 

This time, it’s Ron’s turn to nod in the affirmative. 

Harry purses his lips, before he huffs out a breath, his lips curving upwards. “It’s easier than falling asleep,” he echoes his godfather’s words, from back in the forest, when he’d used the Resurrection Stone. “No, it doesn’t hurt. I mean, it kinda hurt when I woke up, but also, well, I  _ woke _ up. Not many people who die wake up again,” Harry says in a matter-of-fact tone. 

Ron bursts out laughing and after a few seconds, Harry can’t help but join in. 

“It’s nice to hear someone finally laugh around here. It’s been way too depressing,” says a female voice from behind them. Both turn around and Harry’s face immediately breaks into a grin seeing Ginny standing a few feet away, arms crossed over her torso as she smirks at the pair of them, her flaming locks caressing her face, moving with the pleasant breeze. 

“Mum says to come help with dinner. Most of the DA and the Order are gonna come over.” 

Harry glances at Ron and then gets to his feet, holding out a hand to pull his friend to his feet as well. They walk towards Ginny and Harry naturally interlaces his hand within hers as they begin the trek back towards the Burrow. 

Ron eyes their intertwined hands ruefully. 

“Get your own Harry, this one’s mine,” Ginny remarks seeing Ron’s sorrowful expression, which startles a laugh out of Harry which he hastily turns into a cough as Ron glares at him. 

“She’ll be back soon,” Harry tries to comfort him. 

“Why couldn’t I have stayed with her?” Ron grumbles. 

“Well, for one, she deserves to have some time alone with her parents, Ron. Give her that time. She’ll be back in three days anyway and then you can snog her all you want.” 

Ron splutters unintelligibly, his ears bright red, then finally grows silent. 

Harry takes a deep breath as they near the Burrow, now visible as they cross the cover of trees. They pass through the gate surrounding the area and a feeling of home and safety settles itself within Harry’s chest. 

He looks at Ginny who meets his gaze head on when she senses his eyes on her. As always, while Harry’s heart breaks seeing his own grief similarly reflected within hers, he’s taken aback by the love and fierceness within them as well. 

He knows things are not going to be easy, there’s a lot that he still needs to talk to her about. But he appreciates that she hasn’t pushed him to talk, that she trusts him enough to know he’ll open up when he’s ready. 

He looks to Ron who’s walking slightly ahead, the tense set of his shoulders now almost non-existent. He’s slowly healing, just like the rest of them. A few years ago, Harry didn’t know what he did to deserve someone like Ron, whether Ron would even stick around, always worried that somehow, someday, things might be too much and in Harry’s mind, Ron would have every right to walk away. 

He feels the same for Hermione. A friendship born out of defeating a mountain troll in their first year; who’d have thought it would bring them here, to this very moment. 

But now, Harry knows that neither Ron, nor Hermione, nor Ginny will ever leave. 

It’s a sense of safety and security he doesn’t think he’s ever had before. 

Every day when the sun sets, and they’re still around, Harry feels grateful. As each day passes, he comes to realize what family is. 

As he lives each day, he knows this is something he will treasure for a lifetime. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any grammatical errors. I suck at tenses, let's just say that. I still hope it reads well though. 
> 
> Also, this fandom has a severe lack of fics that showcase the friendship between Harry and Ron and it's one of my most favourite things about the books so, yeah. You'll probably see me write more of Harry and Ron in the future as well. 
> 
> As always, reviews are love! Thanks for reading!


End file.
